


rock'n'roll forty fives

by Kt_fairy



Series: The brighter sun and the easier lays [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP without Porn, boys being boys being sweet, spanking ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 06:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17462066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: “Surprise! No wait...step back from the door. Surprise!!!”John did look surprised. He stood there in his socks taking in Roger’s rain-swept hair, the fruit and Nut bar held out in one hand, and the flowers closely wrapped in plain paper cradled in the crook of his other arm. He blinked at him, and then took another step back from the front door so Roger could kick it closed behind him.





	rock'n'roll forty fives

**Author's Note:**

> The Brighter Sun And The Easier Lay's isn't getting updated this week because it's not ready ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Shit be like that some times. 
> 
> Woops. 
> 
> So this is a lil scene that didn't work in the main fic that I've turned into a companion piece? side running? fic-ette thing for last chapter. Who knows. I sure don't.
> 
> You don't need to read The Brighter Sun And The Easier Lay's to understand what's going on here, but I won't stop you if you do.

 

 

**-1975**

 

 

“Surprise! No wait...step back from the door. Surprise!!!”

 

 John did look surprised. He stood there in his socks taking in Roger’s rain-swept hair, the Fruit and Nut bar held out in one hand, and the flowers closely wrapped in plain paper cradled in the crook of his other arm. He blinked at him, and then took another step back from the front door so Roger could kick it closed behind him.

 

“What…”

 

“For you,” Roger said as he held out his gifts to John, starting to get a little worried when he just stared at them.

 

“Oh... _Oh,”_  John breathed, fighting down a smile as he took the chocolate bar. He ran his thumbs over the front of the wrapper carefully, chocolate was a rare treat for the struggling musician, before shoving it under his arm and holding out his hands for the flowers.

 

 They weren’t anything special. A few tulips and some yellow things the Florist at the end of Roger's road was looking to get rid of at the end of the day. He couldn’t afford much else, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

 

 If the slightly startled, slowly growing look of delight on John’s face was anything to go by, the thought had gone a long way. He gaped at Roger, and then giggled, hugging the flowers to his chest before seeming to realise that might crush them.

 

“I don’t...Roger. _Roger._ ”

 

“I thought, you know…” Roger started, shifting on his feet, never so pleased to be interrupted as he was by John darting in to give him a peck on the lips.

 

“I know. Thank you.”

 

“S’alright,” Roger shrugged, smiling a little helplessly when John looked at the flowers like they were worth far more than the few quid Roger had spent on them.

 

“I don’t have a vase, I’ll have to see what I can find to put them in,” John said as he made his way over to the kitchenette on the other side of his one room (two if you counted the bathroom, Freddie always said) flat. He went about banging cupboards while Roger amused himself by fiddling with the record player that was set up near the end of John’s clothes strewn bed.

 

“Got any of those records from that new band? Queens or something?” Roger called above the whirr of the plumbing.

 

“Nah, don’t reckon’ ‘em,” John said, placing a pint glass filled with the flowers on the narrow mantelpiece above his fireplace.

 

 He then proceeded to tinker with the arrangement of the flowers and the position of the glass until Roger wrapped his arms around him from behind and dragged him away.

 

“Now. Thing is,” Roger said as he hooked his chin over John’s shoulder. “When you’ve got your platforms on I can pull you around much easier, but can’t do this,” Roger illustrated by kissing John’s shoulder through his jumper. “But when you’re barefoot you’re harder to drag around, but _I can_ do this,” Roger said, nosing John’s hair out of the way to kiss his neck.

 

“How inconvenient for you.”

 

“I know right. How I suffer!”

 

 They swayed in place, John resting his hands on Roger’s forearms after he assured him for the second time that, “No, I don’t want a cup of tea Deak’s. I want to...do whatever we’re doing right now.”

 

“Cuddling?” John asked, a smile clear in his voice.

 

“Shut up.”

 

 The record ran out eventually. John tried to go and change it but Roger refused to let him go, instead shuffling them both over to the record player to change sides.

 

 John turned in his arms when the music started playing again, still laughing at the production Roger had made out of flipping the record one handed. His smile only grew when Roger took his hand and pulled him into a dance that was a little silly, if perfectly on tempo.

 

 They were being young and in love (well Roger was, John bloody better be as well) and it felt important to enjoy all that away from the the steady, rolling wave of fame and success they were currently riding to who the fuck knows where. Maybe to untold riches and success and eternal fame! Maybe to a couple of hits and then back to university and Master’s Degrees for them both.

  
  
 It was nice to be _t_ _hem_ for a moment and not Queen's rhythm section. Roger would even admit to being a soppy sod and finding himself enchanted by John's smile, dipping him and kissing his nose just to make him giggle. He didn't think he'd ever had this much fun off stage and out of bed in his life.

  
  
 And then he gave John’s arse a good whack.

  
  
 He hadn’t come here to shag. The chocolate and the flowers were honest ‘how does one be a good boyfriend’ gifts. He had just wanted to see John, maybe read while he was fiddling with electronics and then pester him into going out to the Wimpy Bar down the road for egg and chips.

 

 But now the whole mood shifted. Tilted to just the right angle where it could either fall back into their earlier playfulness or to tip right on into something else.

 

“Do you mind?” John’s voice was soft, but there was a glint in his eye that had Roger swallowing down a grin.

 

 He gave John's hand that he was holding a little squeeze, pecking him on the corner of the mouth as he gave him another tap on the bum.

  
  
 It became a game. John trying to twist away from Rogers hand that was taking playful swipes at his arse, the both of them crashing about and filling the tiny flat with their laughter.

  
  
 They were holding hands the whole time, so when John almost tripped over his feet Roger nearly went with him. They managed to right themselves, Roger dragging John’s longer frame against his and almost tipping them both into the wardrobe before they got their footing again.

  
  
“Whoops,” John sniggered even as the atmosphere finally made up it’s mind and shifted into something heated.

 

 Roger tightened his hold on John and rocked back on his heels to make John lean into him, long fingers curling into the collar of Roger's shirt.

  
  
“Whoops,” he agreed, lips brushing John's mouth as he landed a short, hard smack to his arse.

  
  
 John yelped, his jolt of surprise sending them backwards into the bed. Roger swore when the frame caught him in the back of the knee, sitting down heavily enough to bounce and pulling John with him.

  
  
“Rog…” John started, trying to move so he wasn't pressed against Roger but he tightened his hold on him. John started slightly when Roger gently knocked his chin up,  relaxing against Roger as he eyes darted over Roger's face. Roger pecked John on the lips once, twice, pressing his thumb into the hinge of John's jaw as he licked into his mouth.

  
  
“So clumsy, and all because of a little smack in the bum,” Roger murmured, watching the expressions shift over John’s face as Roger shoved his pyjama bottoms down to grab at his arse.

  
  
 He swallowed hard when John seemed to realise what Roger was asking. He gave him one of his long level looks as he nodded gently, but not before leaning in to whisper into Roger’s ear, “You get carried away and I'll never let you live it down.”

  
  
 The threat in John's voice sent heat thrumming through Roger. He would have rolled over and done as he was told if John demanded it in that low, sure voice, and he had the suspicion that John knew it too.

  
  
 But Roger wasn’t quite ready for that. He couldn’t quite make it line up with everything that made him Roger Taylor. Not like John could. He admired that about him, that he had so few hang ups or worries about his own ‘manliness’ when he was with Roger. Loved him for letting Roger try to get to that place at his own pace.  

 

 John never demurred from the fact that he liked what Roger did (seemed to like Roger a whole lot too which always made him feel a smug little surge of pride), and he went without much protest when Roger pushed him to lay over his lap.

 

 He landed a couple more smacks to the bright yellow cotton of John’s underwear to test the waters. When John only made a halt-hearted noise of complaint he pushed them down his thighs and gave his bum a smack with the palm of his hand so it was more noise than anything.

 

“Not going to ask if I can hit harder?”

 

“Do I look like an idiot?”

 

 Roger laughed, hitting him harder this time and then rubbing his hands over the mark to soothe. “Far from it, Deaks.”

  
  
 He carried on smacking his arse, alternating between hard slaps and lighter taps. Roger ran his other hand up between Johns shoulder blades and pressed down gently, but firmly. He wasn't trying to hold him down, or to make him still as he wriggled and writhed in Roger's lap. He hoped it would anchor John. That it would let him know that this wasn't something aggressive or lacking in love, even thought Roger didn't really have a name for exactly _what_ this was.

 

 John took the first few smacks with little reaction. Roger was just starting to feel silly when John curled his fingers into the duvet and moaned after a particularly sharp smack. He went a little wild after that, moaning and sobbing and kicking his feet in the air, grinding his dick against Roger’s thigh as his arse started to get red from all the overlapping hand prints. 

 

 Roger started to ease up a little when he heard the catch in John’s voice. Even though John was making the most desperate sounds Roger knew that every blow must be starting to sting, his hand certainly was, and Roger had never found other people's pain particularly sexy. Especially not John's.

  
  
 He started to smack the backs of his legs, aiming to wind this down and then roll John over and get them both off. After the third strike John whined and tensed, Rogers jeans suddenly damp where he'd shot his load all over them.

  
  
 Roger sat with his hand raised ready for a final tap on John's behind, watching a blush race up the back of John's neck as he shoved his face into the duvet. He was making overwhelmed sounds that Roger would only dare call mewls if he wanted a smack on the nuts, trembling hands clenching and unclenching on the sheets.

  
  
“Hey…” Roger said gently, spreading his fingers over the span of John's back. “You're all right John. Yeah?”

  
  
 He did nothing but breathe for a while, and then made an attempt to get up. Roger scrambled to sit against the wall to give John enough room to right himself, grabbing a old t-shirt left on the bed to wipe at the cum on his jeans.

  
  
 John pushed himself up to kneel on the edge of the bed. His hair was hanging over his bowed face and Roger agonised over what his expression might be as he watched his narrow chest heave under the thin jumper he was still wearing.

 

 John put his trembling hands on his knees and lent on them as he got himself under back under control, having two goes at pushing his hair back before tossing it out of the way as he scrubbed the back of his hand over his face.

  
  
“I'm fine, Roge.”

  
  
 His voice was so shaky Roger shuffled over to him, placing his hand very gently on John's waist. “I pushed too much.”

  
  
“No, no,” John reassured, leaning into Rogers hand and giving him a small smile when he kissed the side of John's head. “I would've said.”

  
  
“I know. Still, that looked like it was too much.”

  
  
“A little,” a wince passed across John’s face when he shifted, rubbing at his ribs that had been pressed into Roger’s thigh. “But I enjoyed it. If you hadn't guessed,” he said, pointing at the stain on Rogers thigh.

  
  
“Well. It has been said that I have a raw sexual power that guarantees a good time. Not to toot my own horn or anything."

  
  
“No. But you would if you could.”

  
  
“Listen, you! You don't get cheek on credit!”

  
  
 John laughing made Roger crack a grin, going easily when John cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss.

  
  
“And what can I do for you, _Rogah Taylah_?”

  
  
“You can give me a handy, is what you can do.”

  
  
“Is that...okay,” John said, reaching for Roger’s fly.

  
  
“What?”

  
  
“I thought- I thought I might try sucking you off?”

  
  
 Roger pressed John’s hand down against his groin, grinding against his palm as he reached out to tangle his fingers in John’s hair. “I want to last long enough to really enjoy that, and you wiggling about in my lap s’nearly got me there.”

  
  
 John glanced at him from under his lashes and smiled like that had been his plan all along, the little shit.

 

 He slipped his hand out from under Roger’s to get his dick out, spitting into his palm which was so out of character and unexpected it made Roger gasp. John raised an eyebrow at him, tilting his head for a kiss as he wrapped his hand around the head of Roger’s dick.

 

 It didn’t take a lot to get Roger achingly hard again. He would have got there with only the slow, sweet kisses John was giving him, never mind the way he worked Roger’s dick.

 

 Roger didn't mean for his grip on John's hair to tightened as he got closer and closer, slowly dragging his head back. John leant into it, exposing his neck to Roger who left biting kisses wherever he could reach, running his lips over John’s jaw to give him a kiss that was sloppy and wet and oh so perfect.

  
  
 So perfect that when John twisted his fist around the head of Roger’s dick he came with a loud grunt that made John snort with laughter.

 

“Oi!” Roger panted, but John just smiled and kissed him, so it was easily forgiven.

 

 Eventually they stopped snogging long enough to do a perfunctory clean up. Roger, between giggling fits, managed to peel himself out of his jeans that were now stuck to his legs, finally letting John drag them off his feet.

 

 He settled back against the headboard when John went to dump the bundle of cum-stained clothing into his laundry basket. Roger fumbled a cigarette out of it’s packet as he watched John, looking for a hitch in his step or a wince crossing John's face as he pottered around. He hadn’t smacked him hard enough to hurt. Roger’s job was hitting things, he knew how to temper a blow, but he wanted to make _sure_.

 

  Roger took a deep drag as he lit the cigarette. He was startled by the strength of John’s reaction to the whole thing, if he was honest. Especially as Roger was not sure if he had liked it all that much when it was no longer playful, flirty, roughhousing.

 

 He tossed the lighter onto the nightstand and blew out a great cloud of smoke, tracking John with his eyes as he headed towards the record player. He reached out to give John a pat on the arse as he passed by the bed, plastering on his best cheeky grin when John shot him a look over his shoulder and chucked a pair of pyjama trousers at his head.

 

 He pulled on the pyjamas because they had been thrown at him. His cigarette left burning down on the edge of the night stand as they both laughed at his toes poking out of the bottom of the slightly too long legs. 

 

 Roger stopped laughing when John flopped down next to him on his front, trying to not look concerned when John pillowed his head on his forearms in order to look up at him. From the eyeroll John gave him, he had not been wholly successful.

  
  
“If it’ll get that hang dog look off your face,” John sighed, shuffling onto his back and holding out his arms as if to say ‘ta-dah’ as he wiggled his bum against the bed. “I’m fine. Stop worrying,” he reached out and grabbed Roger’s free hand. “You’re one of the best drummers in the business because you have soft hands. It's no more sore than it usually is. After we sleep together.”

  
  
“I could always fuck you right now and make you feel sore all over your arse for days? As a keepsake?”

  
  
“Promises, promises,” John murmured, smile slow and sleepy when Roger slipped down to lay his head next to John's on the pillow. He kept a hold of John’s hand, laying it on the blanket between them as they curled up together listening to John's records, talking as gently and smiling as softly as they had been earlier.

 

(Roger did get his egg and chips in the end. He happened to mention the Wimpy down the road - he was very proud of how covert he was being - and John, smiling at him softly, said they could go if they pooled their spare change to share a dessert. He always drove _such_ a hard bargain, but the fourteen pence Roger needed to put in for an ice-cream sundae was well worth the kisses he would get to give John to warm up his chilled lips afterwards.)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> check out this [Wimpy menu ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/42/21/13/4221139e14154e528e6f556302ef3735.jpg) and the fine, nutritious, 70's cuisine on offer.


End file.
